


no fear of falling

by sayounarahitori



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, First Time, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayounarahitori/pseuds/sayounarahitori
Summary: Mark used to think that he got conditioned into first accepting, and later liking Yuta's touches. He doesn't know when he started craving them, asking for them; he doesn't know how to explain the fact that it's a regular post-concert evening, and he's just sitting in Yuta's lap.Maybe, just maybe, Mark thinks too much.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 52
Kudos: 612





	no fear of falling

**Author's Note:**

> this is maybe-kinda a ~sequel~ to a canonverse yumark getting together fic that I... haven't finished yet. but I'm absolutely planning to!!
> 
> in any case, for now it can stand on its own. i actually got inspired by some yumark back at 127 beyond live, but uhhhhhhh... it took me. some time. i'm glad to finally post something for one of my favorite ships!
> 
> thanks, as always, to [doyoubuns](https://twitter.com/doyoubuns) for everything. title from i am kloot. enjoy!

Mark doesn’t remember getting into the dorms, or piling into the living room of the fifth floor. His mind is still replaying the sea of green all around and the happy faces of the fans, the bass mixed with heavy breathing in his in-ears, the adrenaline rush of it all. Here’s a fun fact: Mark never liked the green color. It’s hilarious, how things turn out somehow. He’s been conditioned, kinda.

He used to think the same about Yuta’s constant attention and touches. That it was just… something he grew into, something he learned to live with, got conditioned into liking. He’s never been a touchy person, but all around him are members who are as tactile as they are loud, and he didn’t really have a choice but to get used to it. Mark never resented anyone for it — well, after he grew past the age of seventeen, maybe. Before that, it felt almost insulting, sometimes, like they saw him as a kid to coo over. That, or they were Donghyuck and they just loved annoying the hell out of him.

But it’s been years since he got annoyed by anyone’s touches. Actually, he's become quite free with his affections himself — strictly off-camera, that is — even to the point of getting teased by others sometimes.

It still doesn’t explain the fact that he’s sitting in Yuta’s lap.

Not that he needs a reason, not really, now that they're... that he's...

Yuta's hand reaches for his, intertwining their fingers. Mark gulps and allows himself to stroke the warm skin with his thumb. He can feel Yuta smile into his nape, can almost see his satisfied grin, and he exhales. It's okay. It's fine.

It's not fine. He can feel everyone watching them. They're not actually watching, but they're definitely seeing this. Mark's gaze darts around the room, landing on Donghyuck planted in Taeil's lap, and their eyes meet. The smug, smirky look his best friend gives him is downright terrifying, but — that's fine. Hyuck knows. Hyuck has literally walked in on them kissing, forcing Mark to make a stammering mess out of himself while he tried to explain that it was actually the first time for this to happen — as if that made any difference — all the while Yuta's hand remained in his hair.

Mark snaps his gaze away from Donghyuck. In a way, he's glad that Donghyuck knows, has probably known long before the aforementioned occured, just because he's smart like that, just because he's known Mark for years and considers himself "an expert on all things Mark Lee". Honestly, Mark doesn't know if it's true or not. It probably is.

And isn't that a scary thought.

His eyes find Taeil, whose serene expression while he's listening to some anecdote from Jungwoo almost calms Mark down. Almost. Then he thinks of how Taeil is Yuta's roommate, and quite possibly knows more than he lets on, and oh god. Oh no. No.

He lets his gaze trail away, towards where Taeyong is lying on his stomach and murmuring something — he gets weirdly quiet after concerts like this, sometimes, a complete opposite of his nervous energy on stage — and where Doyoung is sitting beside him, head inclined slightly, and Mark would think he isn’t listening, except Doyoung nods and his lips move. Taeyong smiles softly, not looking at him. It feels... almost intrusive, watching them. Mark draws his eyes away.

Jaehyun is sitting back-to-back with Jungwoo, scrolling through something on his phone with a typical unreadable expression. Now and then he stretches slightly and shows whatever it is to Johnny, who usually reacts in that exaggerated way of his, making Jaehyun grin. Mark watches them for a bit, almost hypnotised, and then Johnny catches his eye, and Mark’s blood grows cold.

Johnny knows far too much.

Normally, that's not a problem. Mark is happy with their closeness, comfortable with Johnny's teasing and mocking and proud of how far they've both come. Normally. But right now, Johnny is... looking. Like he is thinking. Like he knows something more, something beyond even Mark's comprehension.

He doesn't realise he's grown tense until Yuta gently tugs on his sleeve and murmurs, "Okay?" Mark nods, turning his head to Yuta almost unwittingly. God, he wants to kiss him. He can, even. But— he glances again, at Jaehyun, Jungwoo, at Taeyong and Doyoung. He can't. No matter how drunk Taeyong is, he won't miss something like this, not when it concerns his members. And this is not how Mark wants to... break the news to the rest of the members, high on the concert and tipsy on Doyoung's stash.

Or maybe he does. Maybe this is exactly how he wants it to go. Small, unplanned, delivered while everyone is in a good mood, but distracted enough to mind their own business.

He doesn't know how to ask that of Yuta. They haven't discussed their... relationship in that much detail, and Mark was happy enough to go with the flow, to let it settle first, new and fragile as it is. He is happy, kind of ridiculously, mindblowingly happy, enamoured with the world, his members, his... his... Yuta.

He doesn't want to bother Yuta with his worries. He doesn't want to bother anyone. He doesn't want to bother Taeyong, god, he really doesn't want to bother Taeyong. He doesn't want Yuta to think their relationship is a "bother" to him, either, but when he starts to think what Taeyong might say — even if Mark is pretty sure that Taeyong himself, well... it doesn't matter. What matters is, all of these thoughts and feelings dance in circles in Mark's mind, until he doesn't even notice that Yuta is saying something, and not just whispering in his ear, but telling the room at large — that — that he's leaving.

"I'm leaving," he announces, and then murmurs, "Hey, Markie. Gonna come with me?" and Mark nods, standing up with Yuta's help, because as much as he enjoys post-concert unwinding, he's currently grappling with something bigger than this room can possibly fit.

"Maaaark," he hears from Taeyong, and finds him smiling, and it's impossible not to smile back. "Good job. Go rest well."

Mark nods again, even though Taeyong isn't even looking anymore.

"But no pressure," Taeyong continues, and suddenly looks worried. "Don't overdo it. You know. Mark. You know? You know what I mean."

Mark nods dumbly again, then exchanges a glance with Doyoung, who shrugs helplessly and then looks at Taeyong with such gentleness that Mark feels like throwing up a little.

"I'll rest a good amount, hyung," he says dutifully, and then lets Yuta tug him to his feet. In an attempt to avoid Donghyuck's meaningful eyebrow wiggles he looks at Johnny again. Uh-oh. Mistake!

"Make sure you don't forget where your room is," Taeil says, and it probably doesn't mean anything, he is probably referencing dozens of times exhausted teenage Mark has wandered into the wrong dorm room and just fell asleep there, but also, Taeil is Yuta's roommate, and— oh god—

"He'll remember," Yuta promises, his grip on Mark's shoulder tightening. Mark suppresses a shiver.

The way up is... tense. Not in a bad way, but in a way that Mark maybe wants to ask Yuta to kiss him, but he's not shameless enough to do it in an elevator. Probably. What is taking it so long? It's like they're going up fifty floors and not five. But there aren't even fifty floors in the building, Mark has checked, the one time when he accidentally rode it all the way up to the roof.

"Here," Yuta says, unnecessarily, but Mark appreciates it for bringing him out of his stupor. The hand on his shoulder is a warm, welcome weight.

"Hyung," Mark mumbles as they step out of the elevator, and risks a glance at Yuta. The soft gaze almost makes him forget what he was going to say. "Um. My room?"

Yuta looks amused. "I did assume you were going to sleep in your room, Mark, yes."

Mark flushes and punches Yuta in the shoulder. His hand is immediately intercepted and clutched in Yuta's palms. "And I will help you sleep, as is my duty," he promises in a lofty tone.

"Hyuuung," Mark whines, and Yuta laughs, and Mark wants, wants, wants.

Surprising even himself, he tugs on Yuta's hands, dragging him to his room, and Yuta goes without a word. Once there, though, Mark's bravado just... disappears, flies out of the window. There it is, his room: clothes on the bed, and the chair, and even the desk (though never on the floor), paper everywhere, his guitar leaning precariously against the wardrobe. Why did he forget to put it in the gig bag again? Oh, right, he was thinking of suggesting they resume their lessons with Yuta, since they kinda abandoned that after… everything.

Before he can derail into thinking about his guitar, there are hands on his shoulders — both of them, now, and oh, that feels good, kind of ridiculously good, actually. How does Yuta—

"You're so nervous still," he hears and closes his eyes at the way Yuta is kneading out the knots in his shoulders. "So tense."

"It's—" Mark starts to say, but it's hard to find words, the right words, because this, here, is important, and new, and he's still afraid of fucking it up. "I just… the others, you know, I keep thinking how much they know or what they think, and that's— that's stupid, I shouldn't care but I _do_ , and I'm afraid I'll slip up or do something wrong, and, and—"

Yuta hugs him, then, embraces him from the back as he loves doing. Mark didn't always love it, but… well, he came to love it as much as he— as much as he loves Yuta.

It's a simple thought.

He lets it settle inside him, deep in his bones, making its home there. 

Slowly, he relaxes against Yuta's familiar, comfortable frame, thinking now about how far they've come, how this is so new, yet impossibly, terrifyingly natural. Yuta doesn't do much, just holds him, and Mark is so grateful for how Yuta just seems to read his mood so well, and he wants to repay him somehow, or at least let him know how much Mark appreciates it.

He twists in Yuta's arms, and Yuta relaxes his hold just enough to allow it. As always, eye contact is a bit too much for Mark to bear, so he hides his face immediately in Yuta's neck and hears the soft laughter above his ear. His hands settle on Yuta's waist — an object of too many of Mark's nightly fantasies, — and he takes a sharp breath. Yuta hums, but doesn't say anything.

Slowly, so slowly Mark dares to wet his lips — tongue barely brushing the skin — and press them against Yuta's neck. Then once more. The only answer he gets is a short exhalation, but that is enough to spur him on, make him lay a path of short, slightly wet kisses up to Yuta's ear.

Yuta's hands tighten on Mark's waist and he throws his head back.

Shakily, Mark breathes out, raising one hand to trace the expanse of skin in front of him. The things he’s aching to do, the things he spends so much time imagining flood his brain, freezing him in his tracks, and he can’t stop thinking how weird it still is, to be touching Yuta like this, like he’s entirely within his rights to do it.

“Mark,” comes Yuta’s voice, dripping with affection, and Mark makes a weird sound in response.

One of Yuta’s hands slides up, accidentally raising his t-shirt slightly before coming to rest on his jaw, and he finds himself staring into Yuta’s eyes.

The expression on his face is intense and way more transparent than Mark expected — he doesn't even know when he got so good at reading Yuta, but at some point he did, and now he can see the disbelief and joy written there plain as day, and the smile he gets is not the typical wide grin, but something smaller, more private, more personal.

"Mark," Yuta repeats reverently, as if he can't find any other words, but even his tone is enough for Mark to feel overwhelmed. He doesn't want to imagine what his own face is doing, cradled in Yuta's hands. "Wow, you're really here, huh? Still can't believe it."

"Me too," Mark exhales into the space between their lips, eyes darting wildly. "You're— it's still… really..." he trails off, feeling insurmountably stupid, but Yuta's smile only gets bigger.

"Wanna kiss you," he thinks and then sees Yuta breathe in, feels the air between them grow warmer with anticipation, and realises he’s said it out loud.

He keeps waiting, waiting for Yuta to close the distance, but Yuta seems content to just… stare at Mark, the way he does all too often, and it's, it's too much, it's unbearable, and Mark just — he has to, okay, he has to.

He leans in and kisses Yuta.

Every time they kiss it’s different. Which — it hasn’t even been that many, maybe ten times, unless, like, every kiss in a makeout session counts separately? In which case, Mark can’t count. He can’t even think, except the fact that it feels so, so different every time, fresh and new and absolutely brilliant.

Well, it wasn’t that brilliant the first few times — because Mark was just fumbling and flustered and, to be entirely honest, Yuta was a bit too… enthusiastic. But it’s fine, now. Now, Yuta lets Mark take the lead for a brief moment before returning the kiss with vigor that Mark frankly can’t get enough of, the way Yuta opens their mouths and turns it intense in a matter of seconds, making Mark shake and tremble and try to hang on.

It’s completely, entirely unfair that Yuta is just able to reduce Mark to a mess like that, but — god — Mark hardly has presence of mind to complain, to do anything, really, except kiss back with equal fervor. His hands are in Yuta’s hair in a matter of seconds, and Yuta gasps into his mouth, which just feels, yeah. It feels amazing.

He doesn’t even realise that Yuta’s backed him against the bed until his knees hit something soft, and suddenly he’s falling back onto the mattress, dragging Yuta with him. They barely break the kiss, because Yuta just refuses to let go, and Mark isn’t very willing to stop either, and when they finally do, Yuta is flushed and breathing heavily, soft and warm weight on Mark’s body — it would be perfect if his legs weren’t still bent over the edge of the bed.

“I’m, uh, let’s—” Mark tries to suggest while Yuta takes this moment to nuzzle around Mark’s jaw, and his neck, and, fuck—

“Hyung, ah, Yuta-hyung,” Mark squeezes out, and it’s winded and desperate, and Mark is really trying not to think about how he sounds, because no one can hear him except for Yuta, and Yuta is. Yuta is Yuta.

“Sorry,” Yuta mumbles into his ear and then strokes the shell gently with his finger. Mark shivers. “Sorry, I’m just— you’re so. So lovely.” He drops a kiss on Mark’s ear then, and it’s soft and light and barely there, but Mark still gasps quietly.

“It’s— it’s fine. Just. Let’s move,” Mark stammers out, trying and failing to think while one of Yuta’s hands is scratching his nape and the other is drawing circles on his hip.

Somehow, they manage to move further onto the bed, and Mark even manages to sit up which of course ends with Yuta in his lap, and that’s not a development that Mark was even in the slightest prepared for. He stares and stares at Yuta who manages to look like he belongs there, like it was his plan all along.

Slowly, Mark settles his hands on Yuta's hips, not daring to draw his gaze away. Something about this position kind of makes him short-circuit, because — he just hasn't — his brain hasn't produced such an image, he wasn't prepared, he doesn't know what to do, oh god, what if—

"Mark," Yuta says, voice soft and familiar, and then cups his face in his hands. Leans in.

Mark gulps.

Eyes still open, Yuta gets so close there's barely any space between their mouths, and their lips brush against each other as if on accident. Mark can feel that his breath is uneven, and so is Yuta's, but he is absolutely still, frozen in place, just waiting for Yuta's next move. Deft fingers tilt his head and Yuta's lips ghost over his skin — his cheek, his jaw, his nose. The air feels like it's thrumming around them, and inside Mark is screaming, but.

He stays quiet.

Yuta presses a soft, barely-there kiss against Mark's cheekbone. Mark draws a shuddering breath, hands tightening on Yuta's hips, fingers finding glimpses of bare skin to stroke. There's a hum in his ear, and Mark feels like — like he's gonna explode any second, like he will just burst at the seams, everything around him is just Yuta-Yuta-Yuta, and his mouth is tingling at the phantom presence of lips against it, he can't take this any longer, he can't—

"Yuta, hyung," he manages, embarrasingly strangled, and in the next second they are kissing, Yuta somehow finding his lips in record time, and fuck, it's right, it's good, it's everything he's wanted, even better than standing on the floor or against the wall in the kitchen or — that embarrassing make-out session in the dressing room. It hits Mark just now that they've never kissed on a bed, somewhere he can fully melt into the sheets from how desperate Yuta's kisses are, how perfect it is to feel his tongue in his own mouth, somewhere he is free to cling to Yuta fully without fear of losing against gravity, his hands now roaming all over Yuta's body, aching for more contact.

He feels completely disoriented when they part, opens his eyes belatedly and barely manages to get a glimpse of Yuta's fervent expression before he feels the lips under his jaw — a place Yuta has a weird fascination with, — and then his neck, and lower. Yuta tugs aside Mark's collar as much as the old t-shirt allows, drawing the skin between his lips and teeth until he finds the places that make Mark moan the loudest.

He's so good at that.

Mark tries to find something to do with his hands that's not just desperately trying to touch whatever he can reach of Yuta, but it's hard, because he can't think. Finally, his fingers end up in Yuta's hair, and at a particularly hard suck he tugs at the strands, making Yuta let out a beautiful, thrilling sound. Mark wants — he wants more of that, more of everything Yuta, and it frightens him sometimes, how it grew, his desire to first be a good dongsaeng, then a good friend, someone Yuta could lean on — and then just. Be. With Yuta.

He lets out another noise without meaning to, lips vaguely forming the shape of Yuta's name, so familiar and yet new, and then feels a hand sliding under his t-shirt, touching what has barely been touched before, and certainly not with this much intent. Mark gasps at Yuta's cold fingers trailing a path up, up, until they reach his chest, until Yuta— Yuta—

"Ah—" Mark yelps at the first touch to his nipple.

"Good?" Yuta murmurs somewhere from below Mark's chin, and Mark nods and hits it immediately on Yuta's head, hurriedly apologising and tugging Yuta up to look at him and check he's alright.

Yuta is smiling, laughing, even, and the kiss he delivers to the corner of Mark's mouth is so gentle and sweet Mark wants to scream.

Instead, he grabs Yuta by the shoulders, dragging him closer, so that their chests press together and — and —

Mark makes a strangled, embarrassing sound when Yuta — involuntarily? — ends up grinding into him, and then, oh, god, this one has to be deliberate, Yuta's legs locking around his hips, pressing him down into the mattress, pushing their crotches together. And Mark is easy, so easy, he's gotten hard before from innocent kisses, even the first one that was kind of a disaster, and later, alone and kinda ashamed, he wondered if it was Yuta or if he was just that— that desperate, that inexperienced. He still doesn't know, still can't process it properly, simply knows that it feels so fucking good, and he wants, more than anything, to make Yuta feel like that too.

He surges up, kissing him harder, swallowing Yuta's surprised "oh", bucking up into him and feeling fingers scratching at his chest, like Yuta's a wild cat — except, unlike the cat, it seems like a good reaction, pleasure evident in the way Yuta breaks the kiss, breathing heavily, and then goes for Mark's neck, whispering endearments and praises and everything that makes Mark close his eyes and blush harder.

The heat spreads to every corner of his body, each of Yuta's touches like a brand on his skin, sending warmth deep inside Mark.

A distant part of him wonders if Yuta is going to take off his shirt now, maybe even both of their shirts — but Yuta seems terribly content with tugging Mark's t-shirt down to expose more skin he can touch with his mouth. It dawns on Mark, slowly and horrifyingly, that he likes that, that it's— that it's hot that Yuta does it like that, unraveling Mark while they remain fully clothed (except for one sock that Mark lost somewhere between getting pounced upon and digging his feet into the sheets).

"Ah, Yu— hyung, hyung," he finds spilling from his lips, whimpering when Yuta zeroes in on the spot under Mark's collarbones.

"I've been thinking about this," Yuta mumbles, and Mark needs a second to process the muffled words.

"You… you have?" he asks, ridiculously, because well, duh, it's something he could have expected, really, but — but somehow hearing it from Yuta's own mouth (Yuta's own mouth which is doing excruciating and pleasant things to Mark's body right now) is just. On a completely different level.

"Mhm," Yuta confirms, seemingly unbothered by an absurd question. "So much, Markie."

"Y-yeah," Mark whispers. "Shit. Me too, hyung."

Yuta raises his eyes and grins. It lights up his whole face. Mark inhales and leans in to kiss him, helpless.

And suddenly — there's a hand against his chest, stopping his movement.

"So… what have you thought about?" Yuta asks with a slight smile that Mark can barely see. He can't answer, he really can't, but Yuta is right there and asking, leaning in, and Mark's whole body is just jelly. "What do you want," Yuta murmurs, millimeters from his mouth, and Mark whimpers. "Mark, Mark. What do you want," he repeats, inching closer until their lips are touching, and it feels like Yuta's stealing all the breath away from Mark. He's gone, he's ruined, he wants, wants—

"Want to— feel you. Closer," he mumbles, words coming out faster. "Touch me? More, I mean, really touch me, ple—"

Yuta kisses him then, shuts him up mid-word, as if unable to take Mark's babbling, which, fair: Mark can't take it himself often enough.

"God, it's impossible to tease you," Yuta whispers. "You're so cute. Impossible not to tease you, though," he adds, thoughtfully, and then bends down and bites on Mark's nipple, right through his shirt.

Mark screams a little — not because it hurts, Yuta's teeth don't feel that harsh against his skin, but out of surprise, because, like, what? What?

But then Yuta starts… he starts licking, and biting softly, and his hands are sliding and scratching Mark's belly, and oh, it feels kind of amazing, and before Mark realises it, he's moaning low and desperate.

When he imagined sex, he imagined it so much more naked, and kinda more straightforward — well, maybe this isn't exactly sex, not yet, but it's pretty close, and Mark does know where they're headed, even if Yuta seems to be taking the long route.

And Mark — Mark finds himself loving it, falling apart under Yuta's hands, his mouth, jerking uselessly to find some friction, which proves impossible with Yuta having scooted backwards and now sitting on Mark's thighs. The fact that they're still mostly clothed and yet Mark feels, like, two touches away from coming, miraculously doesn't feel that embarrassing, or shameful, it's just _hot_ , like Yuta, like everything he does.

"Wanna eat you up, Markie," Yuta murmurs, nuzzling into his chest, and it's just so unfair that everything Yuta says sounds so goddamn sexy when it should be ridiculous. Briefly, Mark wonders where Yuta has even learned such language, like, did he watch some porn in Korean and took fucking notes, did he google "Korean sex phrases", did he _ask_ someone, oh god, what if he actually asked the others, Mark will never be able to look _anyone_ in the eye anymore—

He jerks, then, because Yuta is — he's scratching lower and lower, dragging the waistband of Mark's stupidly thick pants down as he does, and fuck, Mark can see how hard he is, they can both see, and Yuta, Yuta actually licks his lips before grinning up at him and leaning in for a kiss.

Mark responds eagerly, fingers holding onto Yuta's hair in a death grip. He finds it a relief to be kissing Yuta, to be kissed by Yuta — finds himself loving the way it stops the barrage of thoughts in his head, the way it lets him dissolve in sensations while they swallow each other's breaths and moans and smiles.

Mark barely registers that he's panting Yuta's name interspersed with "hyung" (because, well he's pretty sure Yuta likes that), hyper-focused now on the feeling of Yuta's hand dancing so tantalisingly close to his cock, but never actually touching it. For all that he calls it "impossible", he's still really good at teasing Mark, considering that Mark feels he's been on edge for hours already.

"So cute," Yuta says, leaning back to nip at his neck, "so good all the time, aren't you?"

Mark nods, nods, nods, unable to stop himself, tugging at Yuta's hair, somehow noticing the shallow gasps Yuta emits at that. A small part of his brain unclouded by arousal desperately wants to make Yuta feel good as well, to worship his body and whisper praises into his ear like he does to Mark, but — whatever he can imagine feels kinda stupid and laughable, even though, theoretically, he knows that Yuta wouldn't take it like that, that Yuta wouldn't laugh at his attempts to please.

Still.

“Yu— Yuta, hyung, I— I want— ah, fuck, I—” he gasps, and Yuta slides his nose over to Mark’s ear.

“What?” he breathes out, hot and tantalising, and Mark’s hand slides down his back, and then under the shirt, finding skin and carressing it desperately, feeling Yuta arch under his touch. God.

“Feels… good?” he asks on a whim, stroking and scratching, marveling at how Yuta seems to react to the smallest of things.

“So good,” Yuta confirms, nuzzling into his ear and all around, and they shudder together. “Mark, Mark, Mark,” he chants, like he wants to completely possess Mark’s name, the way he’s already got a hold on his body and soul.

His nails are digging crescents into Mark’s belly, and Mark just — he can’t, he simply can’t bear it, he has to jerk and shimmy his pants down at least slightly, so that Yuta finally has access to more of… of him. Somehow, he manages to get them down his hips, right to where Yuta is sitting, and as he hears a sharp intake of breath, warm pleasure spreads inside him.

Mark closes his eyes and searches blindly for Yuta’s lips, swallowing the sound of his own name. He’s afraid of how he will react when Yuta finally touches him, but he wants it too much, just to feel it, to have Yuta all around him, touching, possessing him.

And Yuta must understand this, because he doesn’t try to break the kiss as he starts to explore the skin now revealed to him. His hands are slow, maybe unexpectedly so. He slides one finger down Mark’s inner thigh, so, so close but — still not there. Mark bucks up slightly, hindered by the way Yuta’s still pressing him down, and gets Yuta’s whole hand splaying on his skin. Moaning weakly, he kisses harder, opens his mouth wider until Yuta gets the hint and kisses back as if he _is_ , indeed, possessed.

This time, even the kiss can't take Mark's mind off how overwhelmed he feels, how Yuta's gonna touch him any second now and Mark — Mark won't last, he cannot last, but he wants to, for Yuta, wants to stay here with Yuta, in this moment now.

He must be whining something to this effect, because they break the kiss, Mark tugging on Yuta's lower lip and then seeing it burn angry red. Yuta looks so good like this, so right, disheveled and intense and perfect.

"You're—" Mark chokes out and he cannot recognise his own voice. "You're beautiful, hyung."

He's not looking Yuta in the eye as he speaks, focused still on his perfect mouth — but he watches it open slightly, and they're frozen for a second, maybe two, or a minute, — and then Yuta covers him with his hand.

It's really only a slight pressure, but Mark shudders and drops his head into the crook of Yuta's neck. A hand pets his nape, plays with the hair there, as if they're just — just cuddling. Just embracing, as they do.

He's so close. God, Yuta must realise, he can probably feel Mark throbbing under his fingers, which are still not even moving, why are they not moving, fuck—

“Baby,” Yuta says, of course, of course he says that, and Mark can only whine into his neck, mouth open, teeth grazing the skin. "God, you…"

"Please, please, Yuta," Mark whispers, and that seems to be enough.

Pressed so close together, Mark can feel Yuta's throat move as he gulps, and then Yuta starts palming him, harder with every second, rougher, and Mark is shaking, gasping at every touch that seems way too sensitive through the fabric of his briefs until — until Yuta gets the brilliant idea to slide them off as well, and nothing stands between his dick and Yuta's skillful hands.

Wordlessly, sightlessly in this brief reprieve, Mark raises his head and asks for a kiss; Yuta, as always, indulges him.

His mind gets fuzzier and fuzzier, touches blending together into one perfect storm, a hurricane of sated desire, his wants being anticipated and met before he even tries to voice them. Yuta manages to find even more sensitive spots — on his sides, his back, the inside of his thighs, and throughout it all he always seems to catch Mark just on the brink of breaking down, of everything growing to be too much.

"Love your little noises," Yuta whispers between kisses and nips at his jaw. "Your nose, too." His lips move higher. "Your eyes, Markie. Do you know how hard it is to look away every time?"

Mark gazes at him, heart hammering. "I— I know, hyung," he mumbles and presses a kiss of his own to Yuta's cheekbone. "I know."

"Good," Yuta murmurs. "Good, so good, ah—"

Mark registers, blearily, something pressing into one of his legs— and without thinking, he pushes Yuta down, closer, harder, and the moan he gets at that is everything he needs. His own pleasure fades for a moment while he takes in the sight of Yuta, so intense, so striking, mouth red and eyes dark, simply getting off on Mark's thigh.

But a moment is enough for Yuta to gather his wits back again and as he starts touching Mark with more purpose and focus, Mark begins to tremble again, now even more violently. There's only so much he can take, and god, he needs just a little, just a little more—

"I've got you," Yuta is whispering, and Mark must have been talking out loud again, or maybe Yuta is simply very good at reading him, which wouldn't be surprising in the least, it would only be right, just right for them. "I've got you, Markie, I've got you, got you—"

The affection inside him is swelling and threatening to burst, and Mark would be scared of it, still, if not for Yuta, who's holding and stroking him, and whispering something Mark can barely comprehend, and Mark opens his eyes — not even knowing when he closed them — and allows himself to fall.

It seems to take forever, but also happens in just a split second; somehow, Mark is aware of Yuta pressing warm kisses all over his face while he gets him through his orgasm and a bit further, until Mark is shivering from oversensitivity, but feels almost… reluctant to tell Yuta to stop.

"Well, aren't you a tough cookie," Yuta murmurs, and Mark bites at the nearest thing he can find — his earlobe — and then giggles helplessly.

Yuta jerks in surprise, but then starts laughing too, a light snicker that Mark is not used to hearing, so he bites again, and again, and then Yuta is squirming and gasping and hiding his face in Mark's shoulder.

"Did you just—" Mark wonders out loud when Yuta stops shuddering.

"Yah," Yuta croaks out. "Shut up."

Mark can't help laughing even more then — god, is that his post-sex thing? Is this gonna be a _thing_ now? — until Yuta bites him in retaliation, and Mark almost jumps and barely stops himself from screaming.

God, they're a mess.

It's not really how Mark pictured it — when he allowed himself to picture anything, considering he had to, like, look Yuta in the eye almost every day, and it hardly was easier after they got together, — and he's not sure if that's normal or what he's supposed to feel.

But Yuta is nuzzling into his recent — fairly strong — bite on Mark's shoulder, and Mark settles into his embrace like a reflex, and it feels good. Right. It feels like the most normal thing in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you've enjoyed the fic <3 thank you for reading.
> 
> talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/boldmoonwalk) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/boldmoonwalk)!


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